Emptiness
by NotDuckerz
Summary: Emptiness follows the story of how the organisation failed. How is it such an elusive company was taken down? Who was the mastermind behind the plan? And what does this mean for the future of Detective Conan?


**Emptiness**

 _Chapter 1 - Death waits for no-one_

The silence was deafening as Shinichi stood idle at the edge of the cliffside, ignoring all the rain around him. His sodden feet pressing hard against the muddy surface as he peered over the broken railing. His eyes fixed at the waves that crashed against the rock-face down below. It was like watching a tribe of warriors, their relentless attacks never wavering. The terrain had become nothing more than target practice. The edge of a cliff that once stood proud and mighty was no more, erosion had done its job and ruin was all that remained.

Shinichi was snapped back down to Earth as a butterfly fluttered past. Its fragile wings brushing against his cheek and disappearing off into the sunset. He looked up at the evening sun beginning to set, his eyes emotionless and hollow.

"This wasn't how I planned it... Why did it have to end like this? Why?!" He sobbed, his exhausted lips unable to express the thoughts flowing through his head. "I- If I knew this would happen, I.. I wouldn't have gotten you involved." he stopped unable to continue.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a bright silver locket, its chain dangling against his knuckles as it hung. The rain continued to pour as he clenched it tightly, holding close to his chest. He gazed at the engraving carved meticulously on the side, the silver shining in the late sun. ' _For my childhood sweetheart_ '. Tears began to trickle down the side of his bruised face. It collected the soot and dirt from earlier that day as it made its way down his cheek. There was a splash as a teardrop hit the loose chain, it's metal rattling in the breeze. He fought against his emotions, hoping he could open it up again. But he couldn't, his fingers frozen stiff on top.

"I'm... so sorry!".

 **24 Hours Earlier...**

Hours ago these streets would have been filled with eager tourists and busy commuters. All admiring the sights and traditions as they went about their day. But in its wake all that could be heard was the whistling of a cold and lonely wind.

Suddenly, there was an enormous bang as a De Tomaso Pantera appeared from the cover of darkness. Yellow paint flaking off as its broken rear bumper clattered with the hard ground. This was immediately joined by a jet-black Porsche 356A, speeding round a narrow bend and breaking free from the dark veil that had just concealed it. Unlike the one in front this was in perfect condition, the craftsmanship a work of art. The silver frames glimmered in the night as it glided across the road, tailing the driver in front. It was like watching a game of cat and mouse, toying with its prey at every chance it got. Both drivers raced through the night, cutting left and right as they made there way down the desolate streets. This was going to be the end for one of them, as today was the day death had chosen to come calling.

The De Tomaso Pantera swivelled round a tight corner hitting the curb. The desperation to escape the other driver now on full show.

As the yellow car drifted around another bend, the light from a nearby lamp shone, revealing a machine that had aged a decade in a single night and the worn out face of the driver behind the wheel. The bloody hair appeared first, once a perfectly woven blonde, it dangled down the side of her head covered in patches of red . This was soon followed by the determined look on the driver's face, ignoring the flashing lights as she whizzed by. Her face was blackened and a rusty knife protruded out of her chest, twisting deeper around every bend. Blood poured out, the colour matching the vengeful red eyes that should have been a magnificent blue. To some she was known as Chris Vineyard, others knew her as Sharon, but her most common name and the final name she would hear... was Vermouth.

The Porsche began its final attack. Slowly inching its way forward, its metal churning as it approached. Vermouth had been anticipating it though and at the last second she spun the steering wheel round and shot off down a side passage trampling over the greenery as she disappeared off out of sight. The other driver was forced to turn at the last moment. Heading off down another passage, its rear view mirror scrapping against brickwork as it passed. The Porsche raced down the tight passage passing an old flower shop, the windows perfectly reflecting the face of the driver.

There was no mistaking the bitter and ruthless eyes of the person hunched up in the driver's seat. It was Gin and he looked as angry as ever. The fedora hat lay perched on the top of his head, damp from the sweat dripping down his forehead. His long silver hair dancing in the night as the wind from a fresh crack seeped in. Not much was known about Gin. His past shrouded in as much mystery as the organisation.

His car travelled through the passage fighting off the surroundings and eventually breaking free on the other side, shooting into the air. It remained airborne for a brief period before colliding with the ground once again, sending him forward in his seat. His eyes narrowed as he looked over to the yellow vehicle speeding beside a nearby embankment. Gin had not spoken a word since entering the car but the silence finally broke, his toneless voice echoing with authority.

"We have her now!" He said, directing it towards a black silhouette that lay ridged in the passenger seat. "She got lucky escaping our grasp the first time. But with nowhere left to hide, she won't be as fortunate!". The unnerving voice rang out, the sound slicing the inner metal of the car.

All of a sudden the Porsche bolted forward, its engine revving furiously as it sprang into action. Speeding through the night, it rammed into the back of Vermouth's car, catching her by surprise and sending her hurtling over edge of the embankment. The car spiralling uncontrollably as it reached the bottom. Flying into the air, the car flipped a final time before it jolted to stop in the middle of the road.

The front had collapsed in and she found herself unable to move. Vermouth now battered and bruised, peeked out the shattered front window gazing up at the carnage. Tire tracks covered the entire embankment, scorching the fresh grass that had been planted recently. The rear bumper that desperately tried to stay attached lay still near a flower bed.

There was a flash of bright lights as a car approached the top of the embankment, gradually slowing down before coming to a stop. There was a metallic click as the car doors opened and two men dressed in black exited the Porsche, the passenger finally coming into view. The man had a face as stern as anyone, his black glasses obscuring his blue eyes. He too was wearing a fedora hat, but his had a red stripe that travelled the length of it. He was the last to exit, suffering as he limped his way besides Gin. His hand clenched tightly on his thigh as he followed behind. Vodka may not have been as fearsome as his counterpart, but he had earned his reputation as Gin's right-hand man.

They made their way down the burnt grass, trampling over the neat flowers and kicking the broken bumper out of the way as they approached the side of Vermouth's car. Gin was the first to arrive, scanning for the driver as he looked through the cracked window. Rummaging into his jacket he gripped the cold metal of a Baretta 92, yanking it out. There was a loud smash as the driver's window was stuck, the handle slamming into the glass. Shards scattered everywhere, some grazing the side of Vermouth's face as she sat helpless.

Vermouth looked up at the two outside of the car completely disorientated, her face now covered in blood. Unable to register what had happened a grin began to form. Her lips frantically trying to hide her quiver as she spoke. "You got... " She said coughing, blood now violently splattering out of her mouth. "Lucky!" She said, the word finally escaping her tongue. "Oh... What's wrong Gin? You don't look to good. Forever with that stubborn face, we both know it doesn't frighten me." Vermouth began attempting to nudge her leg free, but it was no use. The front had caved in forming a cast around her, trapping her within. She was at the mercy of Gin and Vodka. She slumped back in her seat and continued. "Well it doesn't matter. I've done what I need to do. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, _he_ is coming for you!".

Gin's eyes had now become a bloodshot Red, reality further distancing itself from him. "For someone in a dire position, you certainly spout a lot of bullshit. Your threats don't interest me and I'd like to see _him_ try!" His voice turning to mockery as he replied. He wasn't quite sure as to who Vermouth was referring to, but that didn't stop him. "It's time you finally got what was coming to you!" The words coming out with no hesitation, as if it was already a routine.

He lifted up his arm and pointed the handgun between the eyes of Vermouth. It's barrel sucked her in as she lay powerless. His finger clutched the trigger and he began to laugh. As usual Gin was finding amusement in it all, he had come out victorious and planned to savour every bit of it. "Any last words Vermouth?" Taunting her as he paused hoping Vermouth would beg for her life.

Looking directly into his eyes she returned the same maniacal laughter. Even on the verge of death she had a flair for the theatricals. She could feel her strength being sapped away, the dagger that had been empaled earlier had been forced in deeper. Holding the wound tightly, the blood soaking into her palm she replied. "Do what you want with me... This won't change anything. The silver bullet is coming, and he'll stop at nothing to take you down" Blood dribbling out of her lip as she talked. "You both should count yourselves lucky he hasn't done so already."

The 950 grams of pure terror lay resting at the end of his out-stretched hand, the tip pressing hard against Vermouth's forehead. The coldness catching her off-guard and sending a shiver down her spine. She tried to fight the pain, get out one last dig, but it was no use. Her strength had gone, her willingness too. She was no longer able to speak. Laying there quietly... she waited for Gin to reply.

"As ever the actress, you do indeed have a way with words. Farewell Vermouth. It's a shame you won't be around to see the fruits of our labour. Oh... and do send my regards to Rum, I hope that bastard is rotting in hell!" There was a bang as the gun went off, the trigger firing like a bull being let loose. The fury in his eyes reaching an extreme as the bullet flew through the side of her head. The blunt force sending Vermouth's head back, whacking against the head rest.

The noise soon quietened, his arm still hunched up in the same position. For a moment, they stood there silent, taking it all in. Vodka was the first to break the awkwardness, looking over at Gin. "Couldn't we have still used her?" He murmured, although aware of the answer. To his dismay, Gin looked lost in thought unable to acknowledge his question. But he wasn't. Gin's eye twitching as he listened.

Gin signalled Vodka towards the boot with the waving of his gun. The crash had left the car badly damaged and with a little tug it was flung open, flying entirely off its hinges. Vodka reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small cylindrical container. The bright blue liquid radiating as he held it up to his glasses to study it. He placed the mysterious substance in the centre of the boot before stepping back and heading off to join Gin, who by this point was already on his way back to the car.

They made their way back up the slippery embankment. Closing the Porsche and shuffling back into their seats, the engine roaring back to life. A button was pressed and a compartment slid open, revealing an assortment of trinkets. Vodka reached in a pulled out a detonator. He handed it over to Gin who firmly held the trigger with his thumb. Gazing through the glass of the rear view mirror, he stared back at the smashed yellow car.

"Death waits for no-one".


End file.
